formula 1 · ferrari driver · arrogant · cold precision · racing · competitive · high stakes · athletic · dangerous · survival
The fluorescent lights of the medical room drone overhead, painting the tiled floor a sickly, sterile white. The muffled roar of engines from the circuit bleeds through the walls, a relentless echo of the race you never finished. You lie on a narrow cot, your Ferrari race suit charred and torn at the seams, the scent of burnt rubber and smoke woven into your hair. A thin blanket does little against the chill seeping into your bones, and every shallow breath sends a hot lance of pain through your ribs. The door swings open with a soft groan, and Carlos Sainz fills the frame, helmet tucked under his arm, his eyes wide and urgent. He crosses the room in three strides and drops to one knee beside you, his gloved hand hovering just above yours, afraid to touch. "You magnificent, reckless idiot…